


cold blooded

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cisco kisses Len before and after he knows Len is a bad guy, Cisco's lack of self preservation instincts, Cisco's season 1 levels of self esteem, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Rape/noncon tag is bc Len is using Cisco to get the gun, Rough Sex, Season 1, Seduction, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: Len seduces Cisco to steal the cold gun.





	cold blooded

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this once and got a comment that the warnings were not adequate and the apartment scene was awkward. I've rewritten parts of the story and have included the rape/noncon warning instead of just dub con, violence, and manipulation tags. Hopefully this is better. 
> 
> The rape/noncon/dub con warnings are due to the fact that Cisco doesn't know Leonard is after the gun the first time they hook up.

“You don’t have to actually pretend to be into this,” Cisco says, swiping his key card.

The STAR Labs doors open and he glances over his shoulder. Leonard _call me Len_ is still standing behind him, not just a mirage of Cisco’s tipsy boredom or desperation. He's still real. Still solid. Still the hottest guy Cisco’s ever made eye contact with in a crowded room.

“I’m not pretending,” Len assures him in a voice that would be stupid coming out of lips that weren’t so plush and pink. Cisco doesn’t pretend he’s not dumb struck by them and bites his cheek. Len smiles. It’s not reassuring and Cisco’s fingers curl into his palms. “Show me where you work, kid.”

Cisco thinks about asking him to lay off the kid. That’s not exactly what he wants Len to see, even if he is wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt reminiscent of the one Dante stole when he was nine. But his belly goes taut and tight when Len says it, all fond and wistful like Cisco’s something sweet, so Cisco holds out his hand. Len simply stares at it for a breath. Then he takes it. He’s grinning.

There’s no reason to sneak. None of the security cams are running - no point in keeping them up when there are only four people who still come to the Labs, only three of whom are on the payroll. Cisco isn’t going to leave any evidence he brought his first bar hookup back to his workshop. No one is going to know.

The lightning thrill that shocked Cisco up inside when Len first slid next to him is still buzzing. Cisco’s never had a one night stand before. Never picked up anyone and smiled them back to his place, never kissed someone hard in an alley. He’s also never built a contingency plan gun in case his new superhero best friend turns dark side.

It’s been a big day.

“My workshop is a couple floors up. We can take the stairs.” Len raises his eyebrow when Cisco nods to the stair case then tugs him away. “Or we can take the elevator.”

Len smirks and crowds Cisco towards them, head tilting. “Can I kiss you again in the elevator?”

Cisco shivers tight around his bones, too small and too far away from Len’s mouth, Len’s stare. That stare. The one Cisco caught over the bar. Clear and open and intrigued. Cisco looks at tech like that, at weapons and metal, when he wants to know how to take it apart. How to get it going again.

Len leans in and Cisco tip toes into the kiss. He punches whatever buttons his fingertips can reach, hoping he hits the right one before looping his arms around Len’s neck.

The elevator dings. They break apart enough to breathe and maneuver each other behind the doors. Len presses him against the wall. Cisco groans into the pressure. He can’t remember feeling this wanted before; he’s never been bruised by someone else’s hunger. It’s a hotter rush than the first time he snuck vodka or the first time he brushed his fingers over skin that wasn’t his own. His nails dig into Len’s skin and he doesn’t hold anything back. Len looks sturdy. He can take it.

The elevator rolls to a wrong stop twice. Len’s mouth slides from Cisco to check on their destination and Cisco busies his teeth with Len’s neck. At the next one, Cisco takes Len’s distraction as an opportunity to suck Len’s earlobe between his lips.

“Your mouth,” Len breathes. He tilts into Cisco’s attention. Cisco burns everywhere. “Saw you chewing on that straw from across the room. Knew I had to get it on me.”

Cisco’s knees shake under the absolute confidence of Len’s voice. He would sink to worship in a second if the elevator doors weren’t sliding open to his floor.

“Thought you wanted to see what I was working on?”

Len nips at his bottom lip. Cisco usually doesn’t like the sting of teeth where he’s softest but something about the night and Len’s scent and the muscles hard under his hands makes it feel better than it’s ever felt. He whines a little at the bite. Len soothes him with a quick swipe of his tongue.

“I want to see everything,” Len says.

They stumble from the elevator to Cisco’s workshop. Cisco has to turn to actually face where he’s going, but Len proves adaptable, which makes Cisco’s want curl sharper. Len plasters himself across Cisco’s back, mouthing at his neck, palming at his hips then hotly at his ass. Cisco curls his hands over Len’s wrists.

“Not stopping your train of thought,” Cisco says. “Just need to stay focused. You’re about to handle some pretty dangerous equipment.”

Len laughs and the slight chill in Cisco’s chest warms. A guy this handsome wants to touch Cisco stupid and throws a chuckle at his dumb jokes? Cisco may not be able to keep this to a one night stand.

When they reach Cisco’s workstation, Cisco twists around to kiss Len again. It’s all tongue and abandon. Cisco doesn’t even think it’s good. Len surges into it, his own mouth wet and eager, and those mountain spanning hands curl around Cisco’s waist. He feels small in the hold but it’s not humiliation that burns his cheeks raw. Or maybe it is. It feels good, whatever it is, and Cisco scrapes his fingers over Len’s chest.

Len groans into Cisco’s warmth. He slides his palm from the curve of Cisco’s rib to his hip then down, close to where Cisco wants his touch the most but not giving Cisco anything he needs.

“You got another gun in your pocket?” Len asks.

Cisco laughs, easy, loud. Something smitten knocks right alongside his lust. He bounces on his feet to kiss across Len’s jaw. This is fun. Heady and ecstatic and bright. Cisco wants to cut himself against the edge of needing and getting all night. Wants to keep Len on and against him past the darkness.

“It’s under the table,” Cisco pants, still smiling.

Len squeezes his thigh, hard, and Cisco feels it in his bones. He makes a soft noise, happy and confused at the pleasure pain. Len pulls away with a sweep of his hand.

“Well. Let’s see it.”

It takes Cisco’s hazy brain a few blinks to focus. The glare of Len’s sharp eyes feels like a deliberate distraction. Cisco stares before it occurs to him that Len is telling him to get the gun, not undo his jeans.

“Right.”

The fuzzy dumb feeling in his head sinks to his hands. They shake as he bends to grab the cold gun. Hesitation settles underneath the boil of his blood. It’s the same stilted breath that halted him at the bar; made him look away from Len’s gaze the first times he caught it, made him bite back where he worked before Len’s warmth leeched the resistance out of him.

“It’s okay, kid,” Len says from behind him.

Cisco’s eyes flutter and his grip closes around the gun. Whatever courage or stupidity that gripped his throat earlier, coaxed out his name and latest project and most raw desire, grips him again. He stands with the cold gun pressed against his chest.

“That looks like something out of Star Wars,” Len chuckles.

“I realize you’re trying to drag me,” Cisco says, stepping forward. “But that is one of the best compliments I’ve ever gotten. I’m counting it as a win.”

Len’s gaze cradles all the curves of Cisco’s gun. It makes Cisco feel just as desperate as when Len let his lust drizzle all over Cisco’s body.

“That’s just sad, kid.”

Cisco shrugs. “Not if you take into consideration how much I love Star Wars. I mean, that statement is up with Dr. Wells saying I was one of the finest engineers in the country in terms of awesome things said about me.”

“Dr. Wells,” Len repeats, slow. The way his mouth forms around the syllables distracts Cisco, leaving him startled when Len steps toe to toe close and runs his fingers over the gun. Cisco shivers like it’s his skin Len is touching. “Your boss?”

“Yeah,” Cisco breathes. His gaze is caught on the way Len’s touch dances over the metal. Len looks obscenely tender with the gun. Gentle. Sweet.

“Just your boss?”

Cisco blinks as he follows Len’s hand from the gun up. His eyes close again when Len’s fingers curl around his chin.

“Um,” Cisco says. He tries to think of an answer and not the way Len’s touch will feel against hips. “I mean. I like to think of him as my mentor, too. And my friend. I’ve never been to his house but we have movie nights and I think if you asked him, he’d say we were friends. Friendly co-works at least and you - are not asking if we’re real life friends and not just work acquaintances.”

Len’s smile sharpens from amused to something hotter. Cisco wants to fall into it. “Not quite, kid. Just wondering if I need to worry about a mad scientist coming after me.”

“That’d be a negatory. Dr. Wells is kind of like a father to me - ”

“Really?” Len wriggles his brows and Cisco clutches the gun tighter to his chest, embarrassed.

“Not in a sexy way,” Cisco says quickly. “It’s very unsexy. Unlike this baby.” He runs his hand along the same path Len did.

“Show me,” Len says, coaxing. “You told me you’d show me what she could do.”

There’s a space downstairs Cisco’s been using to test the cold gun. Far enough from where Dr. Wells or worse, Barry, could find what he’d been building.

Cisco figures Len wants to skip the mechanics of how the gun works. What non-engineer nerd would want to watch Cisco practically take her apart to show how much cool, awesome genius went into putting her together?

Instead of pulling out the manual Cisco has been typing together, Cisco directs Len to stand a mostly safe distance away from his makeshift shooting range.

“How does it work?” Len asks as Cisco aims the gun.

Cisco blinks and looks over his shoulder. “You really wanna know?”

Len shrugs. “You wouldn’t know it, but I do have a little bit of nerd in me.”

Cisco shrugs back. The man asked. Excitement dances on his tongue and he aims the gun back. “There’s a micro-engine inside that generates a blast of cold. Absolute zero. It can freeze anything on impact. Even - ”

A metahuman that can run faster than - Cisco doesn’t actually remember the exact last speed they last clocked Barry in at, but it was fast.

“Even?” Len asks.

“Even someone as hot as you,” Cisco says, honestly impressed by the smoothness of his own lie. Len tips his head back in a laugh.  

Cisco grins when Len looks back to him. He consider throwing a wink over his shoulder too, but he feels confident he's cemented his suave status already.

Len watches him shoot a cold blast at the metal target. Cisco doesn’t know if Len would understand how bitching it is that Cisco just froze it solid, cold enough for it to shatter at a blunt touch. When he looks back, Len is watching him with bright eyes. Intrigued and enthralled and Cisco can’t decipher if it’s for Cisco’s invention or Cisco himself. Either way, the look makes Cisco’s muscles seize.

“That is...certainly impressive,” Len says.

Cisco tries to pull off a similar cool smirk. Len’s smile tells him that he doesn’t quite manage it, but he’s pretty sure Len at least finds it endearing. That can work.

“The gun or my ass?” Cisco asks.

Len pushes from the table he was leaning against, focus laser tight. He’s not even glancing at the gun as he stalks forward.

“I was mostly referring to your ass.”

“Thought so,” Cisco breathes. He flips the gun off before sliding it onto a conveniently close table then hooks his fingers into the surprisingly soft fur of Len’s parka. “Now that I’ve showed you mine…”

His fingers slide over the button of Len’s jeans, slip over the cool leather of his belt. Something about the black of it, the contrast of jeans and skin and dark, makes Cisco’s heart tremble up his throat. His breath comes quick through his teeth.

Before he can tug at the metal, though, Len’s hands circle around his wrists. Len’s fingers curl and meet his own thumbs, swallowing Cisco whole in his steady grip, and Cisco’s head goes fuzzy again. He wonders if Len will hold him down; if he’ll offer, if he’ll make Cisco ask.

“That’s not really true though, is it? I haven’t seen it all.”

Cisco's mouth goes dry when Len’s hands slip to his jeans. Nimble fingers work his pants open and he almost loses his balance at a dizzying wave of want. He has to grip Len’s arms for balance - and hello muscles that make Cisco feel soft and hungry.

“Nice,” Len says once he's opened Cisco's fly and tugged Cisco's jeans down, exposing his briefs and the heavy bulge underneath. Cisco would be embarrassed by how hot he's running, how hard he still is from Len’s attention, but Len’s smirk drips sincere. “I wanna taste you.”

Cisco digs his fingers harder into Len’s sturdiness. It’s difficult to think past hell yes, especially when Len looks ready to sink onto his knees, but Cisco’s coherent enough to realize that he’s not going to last past a few embarrassing whimpers if Len gets that mouth on him. He’s tempted to just model through the humiliation when Len palms at him, sure and silk cool. Len’s nails drag thunder over Cisco’s hip bones as he moves to peel the briefs down.

It takes every ounce of self control Cisco has to breathe, “Wait.”

Len pauses. His skin is still flush against Cisco’s skin, gentle. “Second thoughts?”

“I’m having a lot of thoughts right now,” Cisco says. He breathes a heavy wave of desperation through his mouth. When he inhales, calm and courage settle low in all of his aches. “One in particular.”

“Care to share with the rest of the class?”

Cisco works his fingers under the waistband of Len’s jeans, an incredible thrill of victory flushing when Len bites his lip and arches into the touch. “Do you think you can fuck me against the wall?”

Len drops his forehead against Cisco’s with a dark, soft sound. “I can certainly give it the college try.”

It’s effort, maneuvering across the floor to enough clear space for Len to pin him to the wall, but they kiss and grope each other through it. Cisco doesn’t have time to lament his own awkwardness. He ends up pushing down his own pants and briefs, toeing off his shoes, while Len works his off too.

The part of him that’s sure he’s never going to do anything like this again wants to take more time; get Len naked, bare all of that smooth strong skin, memorize it with the tips of his fingers and tongue. He wants to strip himself raw for Len too, give up everything he has for Len to taste.

But Len gets those hands around him again, fingers curling around the backs of his thighs, and Len’s voice is low in his ear, asking if he’s ready, and there’s no way Cisco can tell him to wait again. All Cisco can do is anchor himself into Len’s spanning shoulders and lift his legs.

They both groan when Cisco squeezes around Len’s middle. The position works them flush against each other with perfect too dry, too much friction as their cocks slide together. Cisco’s head falls back and Len doesn’t waste a second, diving in with teeth and tongue at his throat.

Cisco tries to do more than just hang on for the ride. He wants to give as good as he’s getting and he’s getting, Christ. Len’s mouth and Len’s dick and Len’s blood flushed heat. Cisco flexes his thighs to squeeze Len tighter, scratches at the back of Len’s neck, lets his moans flow messy the way Len seems to like.

“You’re so hot,” Cisco says. It feels like a stupid thing to say in the moment but he’s hoping whatever filth bubbles from his throat counts as effort. “You feel so good, Len, God.”

Len ruts against him faster, digs his fingers in harder. It feels far less controlled than any of Len’s earlier movements. Like he can’t help it. Like Cisco makes it hard for him to maintain his cool.

The thought is crazy enough that it spurs Cisco’s tongue. “Like that,” he encourages, gripping Len without consideration of comfort. “Hard, yeah.”

“You’ll have bruises tomorrow,” Len says. Cisco doesn’t know if it’s supposed to be a warning or a temptation but it makes the pleasure roaring in his ears howl. “That what you want, kid?”

“Yeah.” It is. Len pulls back from his neck and their gazes lock. Cisco’s only a little shocked by how much black has bled into Len’s eyes, ice under oil slick. “Len, yeah. Please.”

The begging doesn’t really have the intended effect. Instead of groaning, Len laughs. But his grip does go tighter, almost too much, like he’s not even thinking about Cisco’s pleasure, just his own. Cisco cries out and his stomach twists. He’s so close. He’s so close and he can’t be already but he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to calm himself when Len leans in to lick into his mouth.

“You don’t have to beg me, baby,” Len says against his lips. “Gonna give you everything you want.”

Cisco believes him. The way Len moves, the way Len kisses him deep and sweet while his hands squeeze pain into his muscles, makes Cisco think Len has a direct line to his brain. At least his dick. He’s sure Len knows exactly what he needs to get off harder than he has in a long time - maybe ever.

“Do it, then,” Cisco says. The taunt works better. Len works his hips harder, slides faster. Cisco has enough brain function to bring one palm to his mouth and get it spit slick, then drops to jerk them both in a loose, wet grip.

Len curses at the touch. “Smart. You’re so smart, kid. And so damn pretty.”

Cisco can’t keep it up for long. His entire nervous system starts shaking from all the slip sliding pleasure. He jerks them both off with a stuttering hand until it’s too much, until he has to grasp at Len for fear of trembling apart. Len doesn’t protest. He picks up the slack with a low moan and his mouth sucking at Cisco’s pulse.

It’s only a few more slides, a few more licks at his throat, a few more groans soaking his skin. Cisco tries to warn Len that he can’t hold back for one more second but Len kisses him as he tumbles over the edge from mind blowing to earth shattering. He comes all over both of them.

His thighs sag - his energy and his soul sag, dipping low. Len helps untangle his legs but doesn’t untangle them. Instead Len presses closer, dragging his cock over the cut of Cisco’s hip then Cisco’s belly. Cisco pants and tries to remember how to function. Eventually he gets his hand around Len again.

“Yeah,” Len says, fucking into his grip. “Just a little tighter - yeah, perfect. You’re perfect.”

If Cisco hadn’t already lost his mind he would lose it again at the words. Len is even more perfect, big and soft skinned and slick in Cisco’s grip. Cisco watches Len thrust forward and bites his lip. His knees wobble. He thinks about asking if Len wants his mouth, maybe falling down like his legs want him to and just offering it up, but Len curls a hand into his hair and pulls him into a messy kiss. Cisco opens to it, let’s Len take what he needs until he’s swallowing Len’s moans. Len pulls back enough to watch himself spill over Cisco’s hip.

They pant against each other for Cisco doesn’t know how long. He catches his breath enough to grab a mostly clean rag to wipe them both down.

“So,” Cisco drawls, tossing the rag into the laundry bin. He makes a mental note that he definitely needs to be the one who empties those. “How would you rate your first field trip to STAR Labs?”

Len laughs as he tucks himself back into his jeans. He zips up his parka, too, saving Cisco from having to point out that his shirt didn’t exactly make it through their encounter unscathed.

“10 out of 10. It was fun and educational. Don’t get that with a lot of tours these days.”

Cisco smiles then pulls Len into another kiss. Len goes with it and Cisco lights up with the ease. He wonders if maybe this is going to spill from the labs back to his place, or to Len’s, or even into another night. He doesn’t know what he and Len might have in common other than enjoying guns and the fact that Len’s hands are big enough to span across his thighs. If there’s anything more than that between them. Maybe there will be. Maybe there won’t need to be.

Len breaks the kiss. He brings his hands up, palms surprisingly gentle around Cisco’s jaw. Cisco is going to ask if he has any other plans tonight, if Cisco can tempt him into checking out the tech at his own apartment, when Len’s finger settles heavy on his bottom lip.

“You know I haven’t had this much fun on a job in ages,” Len says. Cisco frowns around the finger that slips into his mouth. Job? “I gotta thank you for that, kid. And say I genuinely am not going to enjoy this next part as much as I enjoyed the first.”

Cisco doesn’t have time to ask what Len’s talking about. The hands on him disappear and there’s movement under Len’s parka and before Cisco’s self preservation instinct can screech danger, an electric pinch buzzes through his veins. It occurs to him as he slumps in Len’s arms that he’s been tasered. The realization doesn’t stop him from groping against Len for balance.

“Sweet dreams, kid,” Cisco thinks he hears Len say.

Then Cisco doesn’t hear anything at all.

-

Two weeks haven’t even gone by before Len, known to the CCPD as Leonard Snart, is robbing a museum with a gun that freezes a security guard mid arrest and stops Barry cold.

Both of them live. It eases some of the guilt burning holes in Cisco’s stomach, but not by much.

-

“What I don’t understand is how Snart got the cold gun in the first place.”

Cisco’s shirt collar shrinks around his neck. He wants to pull it loose but he doesn’t want to draw Joe’s attention, or the attention of anyone else in the Cortex. Forcing himself to still and breathe like a normal person doesn’t keep Barry’s gaze from focusing on him.

“What I don’t understand is how Snart knew who you were.”

Then all eyes are on him. Cisco’s shaky fingers fumble for a lie as he fiddles with the vacuum cleaner he used to fool Len - Leonard, Captain Cold. He’d saved the day, for once, but he knows it’s not enough to close his redemption arc.

“Um. Did he know who I was?”

Caitlin purses her lips. It’s her thinking face and it usually ends well for Cisco. It doesn't today.  “He did call you by your first name.”

“Did he?” Cisco asks, voice cracking.

Dr. Wells rolls forward, gaze intense, and Cisco doesn’t need to look to confirm Joe is watching him with focus just as sharp. It occurs to Cisco that he’s in a room full of geniuses who will catch him in a lie before he can even think of a good one.

“That may not have been the first time we met,” Cisco admits.

Barry’s face slides into that adorably confused scrunch Cisco’s beagle used to wear. “When was the first time you met him? He didn’t rob you or anything, did he? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

But Barry’s concern is echoed on everyone’s face and God, that makes everything so much worse. Everyone is so soft and sympathetic, ready to cradle whatever trauma he’s about to relate in gentle hands. And he put every single one of them in danger.

It wasn’t just Barry, who’s only crime so far has been trusting Cisco with his secret. He’s never even eyed power, never even flinched so fast that Cisco was afraid, but Cisco couldn’t leave it. His brain carried Barry’s powers past the logical, into every bad superhero movie Cisco’s ever watched, where something twists the kindest heart Cisco’s known into something hungry and cruel. Something that would need to be stopped.

Cisco put Caitlin, who’s watching him with wide, sad eyes, in the firing path of a mad man. Dr. Wells. Joe.

Cisco wonders if flinging himself out the window is a viable alternative to admitting his multiple betrayals.

“You can tell us, Cisco,” Caitlin assures him. She moves to his side, grips his shoulder. Her smile is earnest.

“Anything you can tell us is helpful. Snart is dangerous, now more than ever. If you want to talk to me alone,” Joe starts, and that’s enough to snap Cisco into action.

“We kind of hooked up.”

Silence settles over the room. Awkward and sharp and Cisco winces as he looks at his shoes.

“You hooked up,” Joe repeats.

“With Leonard Snart?” Barry asks.

“I didn’t know he was a bad guy at the time.”

Joe nods. “You know, saying anything you can tell us is very broad. Too broad. The less you tell us is actually probably better.”

“Where did you even meet Snart to hook up in the first place?” Barry continues.

Cisco looks at Caitlin, who looks at him, and realizes promptly she can’t help him.

“Um. Just. Around. You know. At a bar.”

“This...hook-up,” Dr. Wells says slowly. Cisco has a moment to wonder why death didn’t come before his boss and scientific hero found out about his dalliance with the dark side. “Did it occur before or after Snart had the cold gun?”

“How would Cisco even know that?” Caitlin asks, because she’s sweet and good like a French Vanilla latte and thinks Cisco is the same. Cisco is going to hate disappointing her the most.

“Cisco,” Dr. Wells says, tone leaving no more time for hesitation.

“Before,” Cisco answers, quietly. "It was before."

Dr. Wells hands tighten over the arms of his chair. It takes the rest of the room a moment to catch up. Cisco feels their anger before he sees it.

“You’re how he got the cold gun,” Joe says.

“I didn’t know who he was,” Cisco says again, knowing it doesn’t make a difference, knowing it doesn’t heal any wounds, but desperate enough to scramble for understanding. “And I know it was stupid, okay. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have brought a one night stand to the labs - ”

“You brought Leonard Snart to the labs?” Dr. Wells grits.

“I - yes. But there were extenuating circumstances. There was handsomeness involved.”

“Handsomeness,” Dr. Wells says.

Cisco nods vigorously. “So much handsomeness. And smirking. And I’m not the kind of guy handsome guys smirk at. I got caught up in the heat of the moment and it was. Stupid.” Cisco finally meets Barry’s eyes. There’s not as much rage there as sadness and Cisco’s stomach swoops. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why did you even make the gun in the first place?” Barry asks, voice thick, and oh - he’s going to cry. Cisco’s never felt more stupid. More useless and wrong and stupid. “Did you build something that could stop a speedster by coincidence or did - did you make it to stop a speedster on purpose? To stop me?”

Cisco opens his mouth to answer, but nothing he can say will ease Barry’s hurt.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why - ” Barry starts again, but Dr. Wells raises a hand.

“It doesn’t really matter at this point, does it?” Dr. Wells says, addressing the group but cutting Cisco open with his gaze. “All that matter is Leonard Snart, a cunning, dangerous criminal, has a weapon that he knows can stop The Flash, as well as an apparent grudge. We have work to do.”

Cisco tries not to flinch. “What do you want me to do?”

“Go home.”

Cisco’s taken a punch before; to the jaw, hard enough to knock his teeth around his skull, and to the gut, quick and sharp and placed just right to deflate his lungs. The narrow of Dr. Wells gaze is crueler. Cisco’s entire body aches.

“I want to help,” Cisco says. Tears coat his throat but he refuses to spew them. He’s not the victim here. He’s not the hurt. He’s the pain. “I want to make it up - ”

“We know,” Dr. Wells says quickly. “But now is not the time. Just - go home, for now. We’ll call you if we need you.”

Cisco looks imploringly at the rest of the team. Barry won’t meet his gaze. Caitlin and Joe are watching him with a mix of embarrassment and something he can’t quite name. He doesn’t need them all to say they agree with Dr. Wells; they project in their stillness, their silence.

The lab walls loom and Cisco is sure, suddenly, they’ll crush him.

“Okay,” he says without feeling himself say it. His mouth is numb and dry. “I’ll just. Go home then. I’ll try not to pick up any super villains on the way.”

Caitlin winces. It’s the only reaction he gets.

-

Cisco tells himself it will be okay. It will be okay because Barry is made of compassion and sweet soft, because Caitlin is his family, because he’s Dr. Wells friend. He’s stuck by all of them. He’s weathered their storms, hurt for them, ached, scraped himself inside out and given everything he could.

He ignores the way his stomach tightens at the thought that everything might not be enough. Not for this. Tells himself instead that it will be, it will be, it has to be.

He picks himself up a triple triple and Rocky Road shake, planning to glut his misery with fatty goodness and a Star Trek TOS binge. He’s not planning to find Len - Snart, Captain Cold - sitting on his couch, feet on his coffee table, flipping through his latest edition of Modem Monthly.

“You don’t have any porn in your apartment,” Len - Cold - says. He doesn’t look up from the magazine. “Found this under your pillow. Doing some late night reading?”

“Early morning,” Cisco says past the cut of fear slicing open his tongue. Does he have enough time to call Barry? Will he get hit with a cold blast before he can slide his cell from his pocket? If he calls Barry or Caitlin or Dr. Wells and Cold freezes his heart, if they find him dead, that will just be another way he’s burdened them. Hurt them. His fingers hesitate. “Too exciting to read before bed.”

The laugh is the same as it was the night in the lab and in the train yard. Open and without hesitation. Cisco grips his Big Belly Burger bag tighter. Maybe he could toss the milkshake and run. Maybe he could punch Cold in the nose and bring his stupid handsome face in to the police himself.

Cold drops the magazine and his fight response roars alive. He can’t take Cold - with or without his weapon, despite Cisco’s adrenaline and teeth, Cisco can’t. He can’t. But there is a hero for this, a man better than Cisco and not just because of his power.

“You have thirty seconds to get out of here before The Flash comes to kick your ass,” Cisco says. His voice doesn’t tremble nearly as pitiful as his heart. If he just drops the bag, he thinks he’ll have enough time to punch Barry’s speed dial assignment in his phone before Cold can hurt him.

“The Flash,” Cold says. “Did you name him too? Or was I your first?”

Cisco glares. “You weren’t my first anything, pal.”

“Cisco,” Cold tusks. “I never thought of you as a liar. Didn’t you tell me I was at the bar?”

Cold stands and Cisco hates himself but he steps back, clinging to the distance between them. He tries to keep his ground as Cold gets closer. He fails and doesn’t realize his failure until he’s backed against the door, clutching his food to his rapid fire heart. He begs himself to call Barry or throw a punch or scream, anything, but he’s half suspended, running through water and sand. Any movement would be practically pointless.

“I think your exact words were, I’ve never picked anyone up in a bar before.” Cold halts too close, head tilted, smile deceptively handsome. Cisco wishes it didn’t stroke his knees weak.

“I was playing you,” Cisco rasps. “The cute and innocent thing always worked for me before.”

Cold laughs again and Cisco thinks it’s going to go down as his least favorite sound in history.

“Cute, yes. But innocent? That’s not exactly true, is it kid?”

“I don’t know what you think you’re getting from me, but whatever your plan is, The Flash is going to stop you.”

When Cisco drops his bag to reach for his phone, Cold snaps, snake quick and cruel. But Cold doesn’t pin his hand to the wall or break any of his fingers or twist it painful behind his back. Instead Cold wraps his hand around Cisco’s wrist, stopping the hand with the phone, and rubs his thumb back and forth over Cisco’s skin. The phone falls. Cisco watches it like a movie.

“It wasn’t The Flash who stopped me before. That was all you, kid. Well. You and a vacuum cleaner.”

Cisco can’t stop his eyes from going wide. “You knew?”

Cold smiles. “You haven’t asked me what I’m doing here. Isn’t that what you hero types do? Find out my plan then give me a speech about how I don’t have to actually do it. How I don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“You don’t,” Cisco says automatically. “And I’m not a hero, so why would you be here for me and not The Flash.”

Cold hasn’t stopped stroking the soft flesh of his wrist. Cisco only distantly realizes that he hasn’t tried to stop Cold. Now would be the perfect opportunity for Cisco to try to snatch himself away from Cold’s touch. It would be easy; the grip isn’t harsh, doesn’t hurt. For some reason, all Cisco can think is that Cold was the last person who touched him.

“I’ve figured out how to get to The Flash. He’s not what I’m here for.”

Cisco finally pulls himself out of Cold’s grasp. Cold lets him, easy, but he makes up for the loss by swaying closer into Cisco’s space.

“What are you here for, then?” Cisco asks.

His voice barely even wavers and his breathing almost stays steady when Cold rests his palms against the door, bracketing Cisco between his arms. But his fear is wobbling into something sharper. Something more dangerous. Cisco tries to make himself look away, but finds he can’t. He doesn’t want to. Cold’s eyes are light and warm with want, utterly different than Dr. Wells or Barry’s as they watched Cisco leave the labs.

“I don’t have any more weapons, if that’s what you’re after.”

Cold watches him for several moments before speaking. “I wasn’t lying the other night, even if you were.”

Cisco furrows his brow. “Lying about what?”

“That I enjoyed our time together,” Cold answers, casual, like he’s telling Cisco the time. “That I had fun.”

Cisco blinks. His milkshake has his hand frozen almost solid and it must be messing with his brain, because from the tone of Cold’s drawl and the warmth of his closeness and the heady scent of his cologne, Cisco would almost think -

“You want to do it again?”

Cold smiles, wide and bright. So much handsomeness. Cisco swallows in the face of it.

“I knew you were smart.”

Then Cold is leaning in, cocky, like Cisco is obviously going to tilt into the kiss. Cisco has to consciously push his head against the door to keep from falling into the trap.

“Are you nuts? You’re a bad guy. You tried to kill people. You tried to kill The Flash.”

“I didn’t try to kill you.”

Cold says it so simply, matter of fact, like Cisco’s the one who’s missing something.

“That’s not the point. You’re a thief, and a murderer, and you're not gonna touch me again.”

Cold shrugs. “You said you weren’t a hero.”

Cisco glares. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck the villain.”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Cold says but his infuriating smile is screaming it. He runs his knuckles low over Cisco’s belly and want sledgehammers Cisco’s spine to pieces. Cisco shudders, almost loses his balance, has to bite his lip to anchor his soul back into his body. “I never did get to taste you.”

Cisco presses his fingers into Cold’s chest, trying to stop himself from letting Cold get closer. “You really think I’m gonna let you suck me off after everything that’s happened? You’re on the CCPD’s most wanted.”

“You’re on my most wanted,” Cold says easily.

Cisco jabs him harder. He should be throwing punches instead of pokes, should be fighting to get away. But Cisco has never been good at distancing himself from any sign of want. And in this breath of time, Cold may be the only person who wants him.

“Bad puns will get you nowhere with me.” He means the words even as his heart beats harder in Cold’s direction. There is a canyon ache between his chest and the only person who can stand to be near him right now.

“They got me lots of places last time.”

“Well I know better now,” Cisco argues. Cold drags his gaze hot over Cisco, settling with no subtlety on Cisco’s thighs, and licks his lips. Cisco aches in his jeans. He slaps Cold’s collar. He could’ve done it harder. He should do it harder.

But if he does - if Cold really leaves - then Cisco is alone. Waiting for Wells to call him, waiting for forgiveness from the only people who have ever really known him. He has no idea how long he'll be waiting.

“I'm not that desperate,” Cisco lies.

Cold does lean back. He doesn’t back out of Cisco’s personal space completely but they’re no longer breathing the same air. Cisco inhales, shallow.

“You have no idea how much trouble I’m in,” Cisco says and doesn’t know why.

Cold doesn’t need to know that his co-workers and best friends are fundamentally disappointed in him, have been hurt with more than just bruises to the skin at his betrayal. That Cisco just splintered the love and trust of the only family that matters to him. Cold certainly doesn’t care.

Cold touches his own heart. “And I’m truly sorry for that. Why don’t you let me make it up to you?”

For a second, Cisco considers the question. He’s battered raw inside. Would it really be any worse if his skin sported the same rips his heart has? Cold looks earnest. Ready to drop to his knees the second Cisco gives the word.

“You wanna make it up to me?” Cisco breathes. Cold nods with his tongue peeking between his lips. “Get the hell out of my apartment.”

Predictably, Cold laughs.

“That’s why I like you, kid. You’re full of surprises.” Cold spreads his arms, puts his palms up, looking deceptively close to surrender. Cisco watches him warily. “But I’ll go. If that’s what you really want. I do think I deserve something for the trouble of breaking in, though. Your security system wasn’t easy to crack.”

Cisco rolls his eyes. “Sorry I made it so difficult for you.”

“And I will accept your apology on one condition.” Cold holds up his index finger. Cisco flashes to how it felt in his mouth, how it felt gripping him painful tight and good.

“What?”

“A kiss.”

Cisco sputters, indignant, intrigued. He works his mouth around nothing sounds to keep it from sliding across Cold’s smile.

“If that’s too much,” Cold offers, surveying Cisco with an air of objectivity. “I’ll take the milkshake.”

“My milkshake?” Cisco pulls it closer, looking longingly down the straw. Today was a hard day. Rocky Road has been his hard day cure since he was a toddler.

“Or a kiss. And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Cold accentuates the offer by curling his fingertips in the ends of Cisco’s strands. Cisco forgets himself for just a moment, soaking in the gentle touch before batting it away.

“Just one kiss?” Cisco clarifies. “And then you’ll go and never, ever bother me again?”

“Just one kiss,” Cold agrees. “But I’ll probably be back. Not today.”

“Not this year.”

“Not this week.”

Cisco huffs. It would be easier on his soul to just hand the milkshake over to Cold’s stupidly wide, strong hand. Easier on everything, in the long run.

Easier. Lonelier.

Unlike his first kiss with Cold, this would only hurt him.

“Okay,” Cisco says. This whole thing is already a blight on Cisco’s heart. What’s one more tiny sin on top of letting Cold come over his skin then steal a weapon right from under him?

Cold smirks and slides right back over him, curling one hand back in Cisco’s hair, resting the other on the side of Cisco’s neck. One hard thigh slides between Cisco’s knees but doesn’t press. Cisco doesn’t fool himself into thinking Cold doesn’t feel the twitch between his legs, the heat. Cold doesn’t call him out.

“No tongue,” Cisco warns. He holds his milkshake close.

There’s tongue. It’s not just Cold’s and Cisco is going to feel really bad about breaking his own rule - later, when he doesn’t have Cold’s cologne and mouth and hands clogging his senses stupid.

The hand not curled around Cisco’s milkshake finds its way to the back of Cold’s neck. Somehow he’s pressing on Cold’s skin, drawing Cold closer, opening his own mouth and legs wider to Cold’s want. He realizes he didn’t specify any sort of time limit for the kiss. He’s pretty sure they’ve passed one kiss a few bottom lip nips ago but he can’t prove it. Can’t bring himself to pull away and say it’s over.

Cold’s hands start to wander. Cisco doesn’t do anything to stop them, even when one palm slides along his back then lower to grip his ass. The touch is too hard and Cisco groans, pressing into it. Cold follows him. It’s when he feels Cold hot and heavy against his hip that Cisco pulls away with a pant.

“That was one,” he breathes.

Cold makes a low noise and for a second Cisco doesn’t think he’s going to stop. Relief swallows his fear, almost gently, because he doesn’t want to, God, he doesn’t - but then Cold is stepping away, leaving him frozen.

“Chocolate.” Cold licks his lips, eyes narrowed. “And marshmallow?”

Cisco shakes, trying to catch his breath. “Rocky Road.”

Cold chuckles again. “Like I said. Full of surprises.”

Cisco watches, dumb struck, as Cold saunters to his window. He lifts it and throws another smirk over his shoulder.

“See you around, kid.”

Cisco locks the window as soon as Cold has disappeared. He considers, again, calling Barry, calling Joe, at least the CCPD anonymous tip line.

Whatever selfish, destructive thing that tangled his tongue with Cold’s lingers moth like in his head, crude and buzzing. But the ice bite in his fingers yanks at him. What is he doing, staring at his milkshake, letting Cold get away.

He finds his phone, picking it up from where it slipped out of his hand, and speed dials Barry. His heart beats in the same dull ache of his kiss numb mouth. He paces as it  rings. Barry doesn't pick up. His voicemail message plays.

Cisco tries again. “Come on, Barry,” he whispers to himself. Please. The word catches pitiful behind his teeth. He can't say it.

Voicemail again. Cisco calls one more time. It rings twice before _hello, you've reached Barry Allen_ -

Barry's ignoring him. Cisco has the urge to slam the phone against the wall.

He shouldn't stop. He should call again. At least try Caitlin, who, even angry, will pick up for him.

But his fingers hesitate over the phone. What if she doesn't answer? What if Wells doesn't? What if Joe blocks his number because Cisco nearly got his son killed?

Cisco's weak legs, weak heart, weak everything, sink into the couch. He slides his phone on the cushion and breathes, slowly. He’ll try Barry again. Give Barry time. Barry - all of them - just need time.

-

Cisco eats his shake quick enough to give himself a headache. Brain pounding, he calls Barry again.

Barry doesn't answer. Cisco doesn't leave a message.


End file.
